Weapons Master
by Lola Witherbottoms
Summary: Twenty-five years after Zaknafein's death, Drizzt is weapons-master of House Do'Urden and has nearly forgotten his ideals. But when he is put in charge of a battle-captive from Mithral Hall, will she convince him to change his ways? AU, slightly OOC.
1. Weapons Master

Disclaimer: I don't own any recognizable characters. However, Vrellin Do'Urden and various other characters whose names I can't recall at the moment belong to me, including those in future chapters.

Yupp, this one got the rewrite treatment too. It still follows the same basic idea as the old version, but with the grammer fix-ups and everything. For those of you who haven't read the older version, this is an alternate story for Drizzt. It basically describes what could have happened had he stayed in Menzoberranzan after Zak died and he never made it to the surface.

* * *

_"What did you do with Zak?" Drizzt asked. He could hear the desperation rising in his voice, but couldn't quell it. His mother looked at him with a sly smile, seeming to know his fears. "Where is he?"_

_"He has proven useful to House Do'Urden. You should be proud of him."_

_Drizzt suspected what had truly happened, but he didn't say anything._

_"You are the weapons-master now, my son," Malice said with a quiet grin. "You will be a great asset in the coming war."_

_Drizzt's mind was racing. Zak was undoubtedly dead, a war was coming, and he had no place in Menzoberranzan anymore. He had to leave. But where was there to go? The wilds of the Underdark were anything but a home to him. He would die the moment he stepped foot outside the city...._

* * *

Drizzt Do'Urden paced the length of his House's gym, hands clasped behind his back, unpleasant memories running through his mind. However, he couldn't dwell upon them for long, for it was his duty as weapons-master to meet with the Matron Mother every few years to discuss prospective students.

His fame as a warrior had grown steadily, until even Matron Mothers from lesser Houses came to House Do'Urden, begging Matron Briza to let her renowned brother train their own children; he had even trained a precocious young priestess who had come all the way from Eryndlyn.

But though he was famous and though he had trained countless warriors, he was unhappy. He hated himself for staying. He knew he should have left—it was something he regretted every moment of every day. Every night, thoughts of what could have been haunted him, forcing him to face his own cowardice. But he knew that he no longer had the strength to leave; years of living under the harsh matriarchy of the drow had eroded his morals, leaving them mere wisps of what they once had been.

A knock came at the door, startling him. A moment later Briza entered, a disconcerting smile on her face.

Drizzt stood. "Greetings, Matron," he offered with a curt bow.

"Greetings, brother," she returned. "I trust you've heard of your new charge by now?"

"Yes. Vierna told me this morning."

"Good. I will bring him tomorrow. His name is Vrellin Do'Urden—your brother."

Drizzt stared at her. He had thought his mother unable to have any more children. He nodded, masking his surprise.

When House Do'Urden had marched on House Fey-Branche ten years ago, Drizzt had killed his older brother. He had had no aim, no tangible reason for doing so. It was just something he had done in the heat of battle, perhaps in retaliation for years of abuse at Dinin's hands. Or perhaps, though he hadn't realized it at the time, it had been to up his position in the family, to become both elderboy and weapons-master, the only son in the family.

Now that position seemed threatened. He knew he couldn't do anything about it, not in cold blood, not even as a drow. But a vague panic reached up and took hold of him. He swallowed it and directed Briza out the door.

* * *

When the knock came the next day, he was practicing. Pushing his sweat-drenched hair from his face and tugging on his shirt, he went to the double doors of the gym. When he opened them, he was surprised to see an exceptionally small drow standing beside Matron Briza. Barely topping four feet in height, the secondboy of House Do'Urden was a twig of a drow. Drizzt was sure he could snap him in half without even trying.

He stood aside and let them in, keeping his eyes on his brother, taking him in. The boy walked with a haughty confidence, and as he turned his head this way and that to take in the entirety of the gym, his narrowed crimson eyes glanced furtively towards his elder brother, sizing him up.

Just try it, Drizzt thought, coolly meeting the baleful gaze.

"This is our brother, Drizzt," Briza said then, turning to him. "Vrellin. I will leave you now," she announced. But as she stepped through the door, she called back, "Train him well, brother."

Drizzt wasn't sure if she was speaking to him or to Vrellin.

* * *

Drizzt turned to the boy. "Welcome to the gym of House Do'Urden. This will be your home for the next four years. I will train you to become the best warrior you can possibly be. Your skills will be a great help to our House in the coming years. Now, choose your weapons over there." He pointed, indicating the massive rack that contained every sort of weapon imaginable. "You will have the day to pick, and tomorrow your training begins."

He watched for a moment as Vrellin moved to investigate the weapons, hefting a small hand axe and giving it an experimental swing.

Drizzt knew already that he would have to watch out for his younger brother. He would have to spend less time at night in Reverie and more time keeping an eye out for a dagger in his back—or his front, he considered, recalling the old adage. Sighing, he entered his chambers. Vrellin would be occupied for the rest of the evening; maybe he could get in one last night of rest.

* * *

Early the next morning he roused Vrellin. The boy followed him out to the center of the gym, stopping to pick up his chosen weapons. Drizzt stood in one corner, his back to his brother as he belted his scimitars around his waist.

As it was only the first day of training, he figured he would start off teaching him basic moves and test his skill with a blade. He had to admit that he was curious as to what his brother had finally chosen; he had heard him testing weapons far into the night, the clanging echoing through his dreams. He turned to find Vrellin standing before him, his small form slumped slightly with his shocking red eyes narrowing in Drizzt's direction, jaw clenched. He drew two weapons; the elderboy cocked his head curiously. They were oddly mismatched weapons—a long rapier and a smaller hand axe.

"Tell me, Vrellin. Why did you choose those particular...blades?"

"They sit well in my hands," Vrellin replied simply. His voice simmered with hidden malice. "The rapier is meant to thrust at enemies—it belongs in my dominant hand. The axe will allow me to slash and cause more damage, and as such, it belongs in my non-dominant hand."  
"And you don't want to choose more..._corresponding_ weapons?"

Vrellin's eyes narrowed further until only blood-red slits could be seen. "I'm sure, brother."

"Very well..." Drizzt sighed. This was going to be more difficult than he had imagined. "Let us begin, then."

* * *

Over the next few days, Drizzt trained Vrellin, going through various sparring routines and offensive and defensive maneuvers with him, teaching him the way to handle his new—and strange—weapons. The secondboy was a fierce once, and stubborn. Every time Drizzt pointed out flaws in his brother's movements and openings in his defenses, he was rewarded with tantrums and vehement protests. Although he had only just begun training, he seemed to be under the impression that he was the better fighter, forgetting that Drizzt was perhaps the greatest weapons-master Menzoberranzan had ever known.

A week or two after Vrellin had arrived at the gym, Drizzt decided to introduce a new lesson—one that needed to be taught. It might be a little late, but Drizzt had found a certain childish delight in finding fault with Vrellin, pointing out the slightest mistakes. It was the only way he could get out his frustrations.

"Today's lesson?" the smaller drow asked as he warmed up.

"When you told me you chose the rapier for your non-dominant hand, you misspoke. Am I to assume that Matron Briza told you the drow favor a two-handed fighting style?"

"Do you think me stupid?"

"A simple 'yes' would have sufficed. Secondboys should learn their place."

"You're a male. I don't have to listen to you."

Drizzt rolled his eyes. "Astute observation. If you paid a little more attention, you would realize that you are a male as well. I rule in this gym. Here, you will answer to me, and only me."

Vrellin's shoulders tightened as he fought back a scathing reply.

"So then I am to assume you know what sort of fighting style the drow favor?" Drizzt repeated.

"Yes." The word was full of hatred, but it brought a twitch of a smile to Drizzt's stern face.

"Then you cannot use an axe in your left hand _because_ it's your non-dominant hand. You should use it in such a way that it will be as effective as your rapier."

"I know that," Vrellin replied, rolling his eyes. "I know everything that you have tried to teach me."

"You can't possibly," Drizzt replied coolly, stepping back and watching his brother.

"Ask me anything, then."

The weapons-master smirked. Vrellin had played right into his hands.

"Very well, then. Do you know how to create a globe of impenetrable darkness? Or faerie-fire? These are both skills unique to the drow, and most learn how to do it by the age of sixteen. Surely you know how to utilize these skills?"

Vrellin was glaring at him, anger emanating from him. Drizzt kept his gaze cool, waiting for the secondboy's answer. At last he slumped back, but his violent eyes remained on the weapons-master and his tiny frame fairly quivered with fury.

"As I thought." Drizzt turned his back. "Shall I give you a few moments to regain control of your raging temper? Or will you use it to help fuel your training today? Will you let your anger help you, or hurt you?"

Again, he received no answer. Slowly, Vrellin moved to return his weapons to the rack and just as slowly walked past Drizzt and into his room. As he turned to shut the door, he gave the elderboy a look that clearly stated he wanted nothing more than to kill him.

* * *

That night Drizzt sat in his chambers, staring into the mirror that was placed across from the bed. He really had no need for it; he was anything but vain—but it had belonged to his father. For that reason alone, he kept it. Any time he gazed into it, he wondered: What had Zaknafein Do'Urden felt whenever he had received another young drow to train? How had he felt when _Drizzt _had first arrived?

He sighed. He hated this existence; it went against everything he was made of. He lived only to serve his sister, training and killing young drow—killing their innocence, ridding them of any scrap of conscience and any semblance of kindness retained from hard childhoods.

How had Vrellin taken to his job as page prince of House Do'Urden? he wondered. Had he learned so easily to keep his gaze down and to never look a female in the eye unless told to do so? And, because he had been forced to do so, had that been what made him so angry now?

Drizzt fell back on his hard, cot-like bed. Nothing was worse than Menzoberranzan. He sighed. Nothing was worse than the nights when he regretted never leaving. Often he could push those thoughts away, but on particularly frustrating days, days like today, they inevitably bubbled up to the surface of his mind. Even the wilds of the Underdark would be better than this cursed city. He pressed his fists to his eyes, not knowing what could be done to remedy any part of this awful situation.

He was so immersed in his own misery that he didn't see the secondboy standing in the doorway with his weapons in hand.

* * *

Drizzt, still with his hands over his eyes, caught the faint, almost imperceptible sound of leather boots scraping over the stone floor. He sat up and turned toward the door; Vrellin was already beside the bed, his axe raised for a quick, death-dealing blow. The weapons-master rolled out of the way and off the small bed, throwing himself toward the sheaths that contained his scimitars. He managed to draw only one before Vrellin was on him again.

He quickly brought it up, just in time to parry a hard blow. He kicked up at Vrellin's unprotected crotch, but his brother seemed to have been expecting that and he jumped away. He swung his rapier around and thrust it out. It bit deep into Drizzt's arm.

Drizzt screamed in agony but wrenched away, blood dripping, and rolled back to draw his second blade. He parried a weak strike and brought a scimitar around to parry both the hand axe and rapier as they were brought down towards his neck.

Vrellin, though he hadn't been Drizzt's pupil for more than two months, was already an able fighter, but there were key openings in his defenses he hadn't yet learned how to close up. The weapons-master knew he would easily be able to exploit them.

He parried Vrellin until they were backed into the gym, where Drizzt knew he would have a wider range of space to keep his brother at bay. He didn't want to kill him, but perhaps he could be subdued.

"What are you doing?" he called over the clang of steel, trying to distract the secondboy.

"What do you think I'm doing, _brother_?" Vrellin snarled, swinging the hand axe in wide, uncontrolled movements. "This is the reality of Menzoberranzan. You are weak, and you must die."


	2. Surface Raid

"Weapons-master Do'Urden," the Matron of the fifth House said stonily, her long hands gripping the arms of her chair. Nearly a month had passed since Vrellin's death, but it still stung Drizzt, haunting him every night. He had never murdered a student before; he had heard that other weapons-masters had done so, but he knew that much of the time these "accidents" were certainly anything but. "Are you aware of an expedition to the surface being conducted by several priestesses of the higher Houses?"

"No, Matron." He kept his eyes obediently low, although he longed to look up. "I was not."

"They have expressed an interest in you. They seem to think you will be useful to them. They will be exiting on the surface a few miles from a dwarven complex called Mithral Hall. The dwarves that reside there came from a place called Icewind Dale. They have recently repopulated it and no doubt have their defenses built up. Thus, we need our most skilled males—the best students from Melee-Magthere, as a test for them—and of course the priestesses will be joining you as well. We also believe there is a passage directly into Mithral Hall from the Underdark, but that will likely be watched closely—even if they have never experienced any drow attacks. It will be easier to go across the surface.

"And I am to go?"

"They want a weapons-master; they are interested in taking prisoners to discover the dwarves' secrets. This is where you will come in handy. They also want to find other hidden surface ways into Menzoberranzan. And seeing as you were a patrol point after your own graduation from Melee-Magthere...and seeing as you have no pupils to train at the moment...." Her red eyes glittered with amusement—and, Drizzt noticed, with a sort of pride. He shuddered inwardly.

"As you wish, Matron."

* * *

Several days later, Drizzt stood at the head of a small group of males. A number of priestesses surrounded them, clad in light armor and petting their snake-headed whips. He watched disinterestedly as the young men—truly the most gifted students of Melee-Magthere—milled about the open cavern, eagerly awaiting the appointed time.

At last the high priestess of the group ushered them away from the city. Drizzt took his place behind her, in a small group with the rest of the priestesses. As the most powerful weapons-master in the city, he was second in command—behind the rest of the females, of course.

He could hear the students behind him, their feet just a bit too loud in the tunnels; the hum of the Bazaar could no longer be heard, due to the muffling enchantments placed over it. He cringed as someone accidentally knocked his light steel vambrace against his sword hilt. He turned to put a finger to his lips, glaring at the group. They lowered their heads, and from then on remained silent.

At the end of the day's march, they stopped to rest in a side cavern. Drizzt kept up a vigil with the priestesses, eating as he patrolled the surrounding area, looking for any danger that might be nearby.

The march went on for another thirty or so days, until the high priestess stopped them at the entrance of a small cavern that even Drizzt, the smallest of the party, had trouble getting into. When everyone was gathered inside, several of the priestesses cast a spell to move some of the large boulders blocking their exit.

When Drizzt stepped onto the rocky ground of the surface, he found that it was night. He pulled his cowl over his head to prevent the bright moonlight from stinging his sensitive eyes. As the students filed out behind him, he signed back to them in the sign language of the drow.

_Cowls_, his fingers spelled out, and they dutifully followed his instruction.

_Come,_ the high priestess signed. _The dwarves will be caught unaware if we move now; they don't know we have come, and I prefer to keep it that way. Remember..._prisoners_. Preferably the king or clerics. Follow me._

Drizzt nodded in confirmation, then moved into place behind the females. They crept along the rocky mountainside of Mithral Hall, keeping to the shadows and using their _piwafwis_ to avoid detection. They silently made their way to the chimney openings and slipped down them and into the furnaces without getting caught. They were drow, after all.

The red light from the constantly-burning furnaces threatened to give them away, but the half dozen or so dwarves that tended them at night were far too busy to turn their glances in their direction, and their cloaks rendered them virtually invisible. They moved into the corridors, separating into five smaller groups of four, Drizzt and a priestess going with two of the less competent students. The weapons-master feared they would give them away; they still weren't being as quiet as he would have liked.

They reached a long hall with long rows of doors lining either side. At the prodding of the priestess, Drizzt drew one scimitar and opened the nearest one without a sound. He took a careful look around, taking note of the abnormally large man in the bed.

_Sleeping quarters_, he signed behind his back as he shut the door. _Perhaps we can find the king down here._

The priestess nodded and moved down the corridor, signaling Drizzt and the two students to begin checking. There was a human woman, a halfling, and several dwarves, but none appeared to be the king.

_The halfling and the woman would be easy prisoners_, one student suggested, shrugging. His armor clinked with the slight movement. Drizzt fought back a groan of frustration and flicked him in the nose.

"Ow!" the male hissed, rubbing the wounded area and glaring at him.

_Be _silent_, for Lolth's sake! _the weapons-master replied. _And oil your armor when you return._

The priestess rolled her eyes and moved on, pausing at the end of the hall and listening carefully. "Oh...Lolth take you all!" she swore, running back to the group and creating a magical ward, all the while continuing to damn the incompetent males that had brought Mithral Hall down upon them.

Drizzt, understanding that another group had made too much noise, quickly summoned several globes of darkness, shrouding the corridor to bolster the priestess's own defenses. He signaled to the students behind him to draw their weapons and be prepared. He summoned a few more globes for good measure, then drew his own scimitars and crouched down behind the priestess.

He couldn't see the dwarves as they came around the corner, but he heard them. Their armor clanked louder than anything he had ever heard, and he could almost feel their feet pounding as they ran.

Suddenly a door behind him burst open, slamming against the adjacent wall. Alarmed, he whirled around to see the gigantic man, a massive war hammer in his hands. He swore when the man swung the thing, striking one of the students and sending him sailing, only to crash at Drizzt's feet, blood and brains spilling onto the stony floor. The weapons-master looked up into pale blue eyes and knew that he would suffer a similar fate if he didn't move. Reacting, he summoned another dark globe and settled it over the man's head. He stumbled blindly, giving Drizzt the time he needed to escape.

The remaining student rushed up behind the man and brought his dirk across the back of the giant's legs, effectively hamstringing him. But though severely wounded, the man could still throw his hammer to great effect—this time taking out the priestess, breaking her ribs with a resounding crunch.

"Lolth damn it," Drizzt hissed, backing up against the wall. He and the student, Zillak Shobalar, were trapped between a giant, _angry_ man and a full contingent of dwarves intent on protecting their home, with only the faintest hope of reconnecting with the other members of their raiding party.

Behind them, another door opened, and the human woman stepped out, bleary-eyed but fully dressed in leather armor, a bow in hand and a sword on her hip. A moment later the halfling stumbled out, still in his nightclothes but with a tiny mace clutched in a trembling fist.

"Damn it, _move_!" Drizzt shouted, shoving Zillak ahead of him and into the path of the dwarves. He put his finger to the insignia of his House that pinned his _piwafwi_ and tried to levitate. When he realized that he couldn't, he began to panic.

A flash of silver flew over his head, and he turned to the see the woman with her bow held up in front of her, another arrow already nocked and aimed at him. He ducked, barely in time, and felt it whip through the air above his head as he threw himself down. He kept an eye on the humans and the halfling, while noting that the dwarves had stopped their charge, momentarily baffled by still-functioning defensive wall and the globes of darkness. Maybe he could use that to his advantage somehow...

He tried it, summoning even more globes to confuse the humans, although the silver arrows continued to streak through the air, more than one coming close to him. He grabbed Zillak by the hem of his cloak and dragged him along behind him, opening the door to the nearest bedroom.

Once in, he stood and closed the thick wooden door behind him, locking it, although he doubted it could withstand the strikes of the barbarian's hammer for long. He looked down at Zillak to tell him of his vague plan, the student still slumped in fear by the door. It was then that Drizzt noticed the silver arrow protruding from one eye, and the other that was stuck in his stomach.

Drizzt looked around the room, and immediately dashed for the window in the far wall. It was small and rectangular, but he thought he could fit. He sheathed his scimitars and quickly unlatched it, leaping up to grab the ledge and pull himself up and over. Once outside, he began to climb the rocks and came out after a couple terror-filled minutes on top of Mithral Hall. He ran for the nearest chimney and climbed down it. If he ran for the cavern they had come out of, the patrols would spot him and he would be a dead drow. His best hope was to find another way back to the Underdark inside the Hall.

He came out in a large hall, in a fireplace where a few red coals still smoldered. He again drew his scimitars and pulled his cowl over his head, pulling his _piwafwi_ close as he crept through the shadows.

He could hear the sounds of fighting up ahead as he glided silently through the complex. Whenever he heard heavy footsteps he veered into whatever corridor was next, venturing deeper and deeper into the Hall. He was beginning to lose all sense of direction when he found himself in the same sleeping quarters as before, the dwarven contingent finally overcoming the defenses set by the drow. He set himself to attack from behind, but found that he was faltering. These dwarves were only trying to defend their home. He shook his head, pausing momentarily. Vivid memories flashed through his mind. He recalled a young elven girl, running for her dead mother's body amidst screaming flames.

He heard the faint twang of a bowstring behind him and whirled to see the woman there, the halfling beside her. She had an arrow ready, but he rushed her before she could let it fly. Falling back, she dropped the bow and drew her sword. Drizzt pressed his attack, allowing her no room, but somehow she got her leg up and delivered a ferocious blow to his kneecap. Stumbling with the pain, he silently berated himself for not expecting that. But he was back up in an instant, parrying fiercely. She was a skilled fighter, he noted, and he knew that this battle would go hard for him if he didn't remain vigilant.

Though he tried, he found himself weakening. His frantic flight through the complex had tired him more than he had anticipated, and his movements became a little less tight, a little less in control. He still fought, but even getting his own body to cooperate was a struggle he couldn't afford.

With another kick to the kneecap and a curse, he found himself on the stony floor. He tried to regain his ground, only to find the cold steel of a sword against the back of his neck. He was pinned.

Then he saw another group of drow, three students and a priestess. The males had their weapons drawn as they rushed into the mass of dwarves, while the priestess aimed a hand crossbow in the human woman's direction. With a faint twang it released, and struck its target. The woman staggered forward, her sword slipping from her hand and narrowly missing decapitating Drizzt. Grimacing, he got out from under her as she fell limply and drew two lengths of rope from his cloak. He bound her hand and foot and gagged her.

Drizzt moved through other nearby corridors, noticing that the main congregation of dwarves was in the sleeping halls. The other groups of drow must have heard the fray and gone to help. There were a few dwarves bound and gagged and put in a disheveled group under the watchful guard of a priestess.

_I have captured a human_, Drizzt signed to her. _She's in a nearby hall._

_Good. Retrieve her._

At that moment one of the males entered the hall, with the woman's limp body flung over his shoulder. Drizzt fought back a frown. He had long since learned to do what he was told and no trouble would come, but this grated on his honor. She was a prisoner, but should be treated with care. At least, until the priestesses took her.

The ragged group, somewhat smaller in number, made their way back through the furnaces one by one until they were all on the surface. They quickly headed back to the cavern entrance and went into the Underdark, the high priestess first, followed by the rest of the females, then the students, and finally the weapons-master.

* * *

A little over a month later they returned to Menzoberranzan. Drizzt was in charge of the prisoners, forced to use cruel tactics at the demands of the priestesses to keep them in line. They had all grown noticeably thinner in their time in the Underdark, unused to the sunless world and lack of available food.

Once they reached Tier Breche, however, the females took over, and took the prisoners to Arach-Tinilith to be questioned and tortured. Drizzt returned to House Do'Urden to give a report on the raid's success to Briza, and returned to the gym he called home.

A few weeks later he was summoned to the throne room. He bowed before the Matron Mother, noticing the other priestesses of House there as well, including his other sisters Maya and Vierna.

"You summoned me, Matron?"

"I did." Briza gave him one of her disconcerting smiles. He hated it when she did that; it suggested something vaguely unpleasant. "Brother, your actions in the dwarven complex heaped Lolth's favor over House Do'Urden. Your defensive measures helped halt the dwarves and aided in the capture of important prisoners. Your transgressions twenty-five years ago have been forgiven."

Drizzt looked up, shocked. What actions? He had been flat on his stomach when the prisoners were captured. Lolth was blind. Remembering his place, he lowered his eyes.

"As a reward, the priestesses have decided to give you the human woman as a battle-captive."

Another shock, but this time Drizzt kept his eyes down, unsure how to react. This was certainly unheard of.

"The Spider Queen demands this as well. However, there will be no Binding in this particular instance. You are a male, and your battle-captive is even lower than you are." Briza snapped her fingers. "Bring her out."

The weapons-master looked up as Vierna pulled the woman from behind the throne, a gag in her mouth and her hands tied behind her back. She stared at him, her blue eyes glinting angrily. Vierna handed him a small hoop earring that he knew carried an enchantment that would allow him to speak with the woman and understand her.

"She is yours to do with what you will, brother," Briza smiled. "You are dismissed."


	3. Battle Captive

Drizzt was in a state of shock as he led the woman back to the gym. He was unable to wrap his head around what had just happened. For some inexplicable reason, Lolth had wanted to give him a battle-captive. He had no idea what to do. As he unlocked the door of the gym, he could still feel the woman's hard glare on his back. He ushered her inside, then removed her gag and untied her hands.

He put the hoop in his ear, then looked at her. She slumped down to the floor, tears in her eyes. Something in his heart wrenched, and he moved to sit before her. She glanced at him briefly, then looked away.

"What's your name?" he asked softly. She looked back abruptly, surprised to hear him speak in her own language.

"Catti-brie," she replied at last. "And I want nothing t'do with this awful place."

"You'll be safe with me," he offered, a wealth of emotions roiling in him. "I mean...I'm not going to try anything. I'm not going to...to use you. I...Catti-brie, I'm different from most drow." He didn't know why he thought it was important to make her understand this, that he would never do anything to hurt her.

"Oh, that's sayin' a lot," she retorted. "I saw yer companions kill me father's friends. And me family."

"Father?" he asked, surprised.

"Stop trying to change the subject, _drow_," she retorted.

"I'm not. I'm just curious. Did you say that your father is a _dwarf_?"

"Yeah. Me own parents were killed in an orc raid and King Bruenor took me in. Satisfied?"

Drizzt raised an eyebrow. "Your father is the king?"

"Yes."

She didn't say anything for several long minutes, leaving the weapons-master to grasp for something to say. At last, he offered, "My name's Drizzt, if it makes any difference. I am—"

"How could it make any difference, _Drizzt_, when I saw yer friends kill me family? And then they threatened my own life and took me captive. Not to mention the fact that we were tortured for information. No one gave it up," she said proudly, lifting her head. "Whatever yer damned priestesses threw at us, we took it. But how can ye possibly call yerself different when ye let them do that to us? Ye can't claim to be kind when you let yer companions take innocents captive and torture them."

"They tortured you?" Drizzt felt sick at his stomach, though he had known all along what was in store for the captives.

"Yeah. And I told ye none of us gave up anything."

"No. I meant...what did they use?"

"I should think _you_ would know. Ye're a drow, after all," she said matter-of-factly, crossing her arms and wincing with the movement.

"What did they use?" he repeated.

"What d'ye think?" she snorted, bitterness tingeing her voice. "Whips, chains, whips _made_ of chains, those weird snake-head whips, poisons, spikes...ye name it, they used it. We were down there a few weeks, I'd guess."

Drizzt cursed softly. "Would you mind if I looked at your back?"

"What?" She looked offended, and more than a little worried.

"There will be scars. I have salves in my chambers that will help heal them."

She didn't reply, but neither did she protest when he slowly lifted her shirt to her shoulder blades. He grimaced at the sight of the angry red scars that crisscrossed her back. There were several wounds, deep gashes and welts, that hadn't completely healed.

"Yes, you'll need the salves. Let me go get them."

* * *

That night he made up the small bed in the quarters that usually were reserved for students. He didn't speak much with her for the remainder of the evening, trying to give her space and allow her time to work through everything that had happened to her. He could also see the suspicion in her eyes. She didn't trust him, and he couldn't blame her. She didn't know that his intentions were honorable. She had seen firsthand the cruelty of the drow.

That night he lay in his own bed, the single blanket wrapped close about him. He let his eyes shift into the infrared spectrum, looking at the faint heat patterns on the ceiling and walls. Somehow, this made the small room seem even smaller. It was always stifling, but tonight the torment seemed doubled. Something about having that human, that stubborn, defiant human, near him. He was sure that was what it was. But he didn't understand it.

The next morning, he woke Catti-brie early. An idea had come to him in the night. He wasn't sure what good it would do, but he knew that it would pass the time at the very least. The woman blinked blearily up at him.

"The first time I get some proper sleep in weeks, drow, and ye wake me?"

"I have an idea."

"Oh, what? More torture? Have ye thought up new ways to hurt me?"

"I want to train you."

"What?"

"I want to train you. I am the weapons-master of House Do'Urden; I know what I'm doing. I learned all I know from my father, who held this position before me."

"Yer father?" She looked up at him, curiosity in her eyes. "I'd like to meet _him_..." Her tone was caustic, grating on Drizzt's nerves. He crossed his arms and looked coldly at her.

"He's dead," he said.

"Let me guess...ye killed him?"

"Did I not say that I was different from most drow?"

"And that means...?"

"Killed by my mother."

"Oh..." She looked mildly apologetic. "And yer mother?" Her tone was still hard, but he could see that she was becoming more interested.

"Killed by my oldest sister."

"And yer sister?"

"Currently ruling House Do'Urden, but she is likely to be killed by one of my other sisters." He shrugged.

"Any brothers?"

Drizzt hesitated for a moment. Then, shaking his head, he said, "No."

Catti-brie looked knowingly at him. "What happened to 'em?"

He gazed at her for a long moment. He considered telling the truth, but thought it was in his best interest to keep silent on the matter. "You don't want to know," he conceded.

She nodded. "So...yer parents are dead."

"It is not an uncommon thing among the drow. Now, as for my training you..." He walked over to the weapons rack and gestured. "Choose two."

"I've always fought with one sword."

"If you wish to survive in Menzoberranzan, you will learn to use two."

"So ye're expecting me to leave this gym and go into the city?"

"You never know." He crossed his arms and leaned against the wall, staring Catti-brie down. She was a worthy opponent, he noted, staring unperturbedly back at him for several long minutes before buckling under his lavender gaze. At last she stood and went to look at the rack.

"Take as much time as you wish," Drizzt said. "I have no forthcoming students to train, so I will be able to devote all my time to you."

"Lovely," she muttered under her breath as she hefted a double-bladed axe.

"Isn't it, though?" Drizzt beamed sarcastically.

"So no students, hmm? Why?"

Unbidden, a wealth of memories flooded his mind. He could see his young brother's face, red eyes opened wide in shock as blood dripped from his mouth. Vrellin's stomach open wide from what Drizzt had only meant to be a warning nick. The secondboy falling to the floor in convulsive spasms, gasping for air and unable to breathe.

He turned from the woman walked toward his chambers. Before he closed the door behind him, he said softly, "You are never to enter my quarters." He left Catti-brie to choose her weapons alone.

* * *

The next morning he left the safety of his quarters to find that Catti-brie had fallen asleep beside the weapons rack, a sheathed sword clutched in either hand. He smiled as he looked down at her, the sight of her somehow amusing. He bent down and shook her awake, eliciting a groggy moan and a weak swat aimed at his face. He laughed. "Wake up," he demanded gently. "Your training begins today."

"Training?" she asked in sleepy disbelief, sitting up. "I can't even keep me eyes open, and you actually want me to—"

"Yes. I _expect_ you to." He gave her a perfectly stony look. "You'll have to get used to waking earlier than you're used to. And sleep with one eye open. You never know who can get into the gym."

"Ye lock it, don't you?"

"Yes, but my sisters can get in. So can the Matron Mother. Lolth herself, if she wishes it. And you don't know what I'm capable of. Don't trust me. Never trust a drow."

"Wonderful." Catti-brie shook her head, trying to rid herself of the last vestiges of sleep. Then she stood, drawing her blades; Drizzt saw that she had already buckled the belt holding their sheaths around her waist. Only then did he notice the clothes she had been given after her torture. The tunic had a spider design embroidered in the cloth, a weapon held in each of its claws—the symbol of House Do'Urden. Her pale skin, auburn hair, and big blue eyes looked out of place against the dark cloth of the garments, and she looked even stranger with the drow-made weapons clutched in her fists. To him, she looked like a child playing dress-up.

He considered her age then. She looked young, maybe around twenty. She was probably his equivalent in drow years. She began to squirm uncomfortably under his scrutiny, until he finally averted his gaze.

"What?" she demanded."

"Nothing." He drew his own scimitars. "What do you know about fighting? You've grown up among the dwarves. I myself have spent time with the gray dwarves—cunning warriors. I assume their surface cousins are as well."

"Well..." she began, seeming uncertain.

"What if we duel? That way I can see what you know and get an idea of what I need to teach you."

"All right..." Without warning she leapt at him, both swords raised high. They rang off Drizzt's scimitars, catching him off guard. He quickly recovered and parried, both blades against hers, arms high above their heads. She raised her eyebrows at the obvious opening he was giving her, then brought one sword away a split second after he did, his movement so fast she didn't register it in time.

The weapons rang again as they met, and as Catti-brie stood in shocked silence, Drizzt brought his scimitars up and crossed them at her neck.

"You're going to need a lot of work," he commented coolly.


	4. Turning Point

Drizzt sighed heavily as he watched Catti-brie warm up. She had been living in his gym for a few weeks now. She was still impetuous, stubborn, and snapped at him often. While training she tended to blatantly ignore him or make backhanded comments about the drow in general. He ignored her for the most part, but whenever she wasn't watching him, he was watching her.

She was beautiful, he had to admit. And every time he looked at her, he was wracked with guilt for what he had done in Mithral Hall. He had acted like a common drow. She was right. His people had brutally murdered the dwarves and tortured their captives, and he had stood by and watched. He had no real way of apologizing for those crimes, although he longed to. And any time he approached her, she would give him a stony glower and walk away.

She was a clever student, one of the best he had taught, and she knew her way around a blade. He was glad to teach her, but he could hardly look her in the eye. Whenever he did, he would recall that she was his battle-captive, and that made him sick to his stomach. And every night when he tried to slip into Reverie, he found that she dominated his thoughts. His days were spent in a fog, and his nights were even worse.

Whenever he did manage to make eye contact with her for more than a few seconds, he found that she reminded him of the little elven girl whose life he had saved nearly thirty years ago. Catti-brie was an enigma to him. He felt as though he wanted to be near her constantly, to train her carefully, maybe even cultivate a friendship with her and gain her acceptance. But at the same time he felt repulsed by her, as though she were less than him. She had been given to him, and she was someone to be treated with malice and abuse. These thoughts frightened him, because when they came to him, he knew that he had been in Menzoberranzan far too long.

In short, she added so much more turmoil to his already-conflicted soul. But for him, the former argument inevitably won out over the latter, and today he approached her as she warmed up. Standing behind her, he said quietly, "Forgive me."

She turned around, confusion in her eyes. "What?"

"Forgive me." He looked at her imploringly.

"Fer what?" Her voice was surprisingly soft, and her blue eyes bored into him, seeming to look straight into his soul.

"For my people's actions. For what they have done to you. And forgive me for all that I have done to you."

"Ye've done nothing to me." She turned away, that cold edge in her voice once again.

"I never meant for this to happen."

"Ye're talking in riddles, drow. Speak more clearly."

"I never said anything when you were taken captive, though it went against what I think is right. You became my battle-captive, though I never meant for that to happen. Please, Catti-brie...forgive me."

She stared at him for a long time, her eyes searching, but at last she turned away without saying a word.

* * *

That night as he was preparing for bed, the door to his chambers opened. "I told you your first day that you were not allowed in here."

"Ye've not done a thing to help me." He looked up at her, watching her as she stood in the doorway. "But ye _are_ different."

His eyes widened, and he opened his mouth to try and form his incoherent thoughts into suitable words, but she left before he could get them out. When she was gone, he managed a small smile. Maybe there was hope after all...

And, to his surprise, things seemed to improve from there. Over the next few days, Catti-brie slowly warmed to him, speaking with a less sarcastic edge in her voice. This only served to raise his hopes even further. He knew that he would never completely gain her forgiveness, but just having her begin to accept him meant the world.

One morning before their warm-up, she came over to him with an odd expression on her face. "Ye've done nothing to harm me," she said quietly, her voice barely above a whisper. " 'Twas yer people who captured me an' killed me kin. Ye never did no such thing."

It was more than he could have hoped for.

* * *

Drizzt parried Catti-brie's furious blow, the strength of his hit forcing her back several steps. He watched her closely, curiously, as she fought him; she was sloppy today. She was better than this—he had been training her for months now. He withdrew his scimitars, forcing her to stop.

"Why?" she asked. Her auburn hair, pulled back, dripped in sweaty tendrils around her flushed face, and her blue eyes sparked dangerously. "Why'd ye stop?"

"You're messy today," he commented. "Your stabs are all over the place, you're not calculating my next moves, and you're very nearly tripping over your own feet. You need to focus."

"I _am_!" she retorted hotly.

"No, you're not," he replied, his tone just as harsh. He sighed, shaking his head. "Tell you what. We'll take a break for a few minutes. Get a drink, catch our breath...then we'll practice for another hour or two and call it a day, all right?" He offered her a small smile.

The young woman shrugged and sheathed her weapons, then turned her back to him. Drizzt sighed again, unbuckling his belt. She had been acting strange lately. Part of him wanted to confront her about it, but another part—the drow part—was disgusted that she let personal matters interfere with her training. He found himself wondering about her yet again. She had still only revealed that small part of her past that first night in the gym. Ever since, she had been sullen, stubborn, and rather paranoid. Not that he could blame her—the Underdark tended to do that to anyone who remained in its depths for prolonged periods of time.

He sat down, his back to the wall, and closed his eyes. He could hear Catti-brie's quiet steps as she walked around the gym, restless.

"Ye don't know why I can't focus, do ye?" she said suddenly, shyly.

He opened his eyes, watching her as she sat down beside him. "Why, then?" he asked, truly curious. She opened her mouth, and he jolted in shock when she leaned in and kissed him. He could only sit there, helpless and amazed.

* * *

Drizzt woke slowly the next morning, rubbing his eyes. He began to sit up, when a pair of strong arms wrapped around his waist, trying to pull him back down. Surprised, he fought away, then looked down at the woman still half-asleep beside him. "Oh..._fuck._" How had this happened? He liked her, certainly, but sleeping with her had never occurred to him.

It wasn't as though sleeping with a woman was new to him, though; he had had his share of lovers. But that had been different. His previous encounters had always taken him back to their Houses, rather than degrade themselves by going to the home of a mere male. He shivered. Catti-brie had been so different than the priestesses who had taken an interest in him. Rather than using him for her own pleasure and throwing him aside as soon as they were done, she had taken care to ensure they both enjoyed it, and had held him close when they finished. Not a thing like the priestesses, he mused. He had been lucky to just survive his drow lovers.

He looked down at her, mesmerized by the way her blue eyes looked up at him, reflecting in the sputtering candlelight, at the way her tangled auburn hair lay strewn across the pillows. She tried again to pull him back down and succeeded this time, tugging the single thin blanket over them both and mumbling, "Yer bed's too small..." before falling back asleep.

Drizzt sighed heavily and pressed his palms over his eyes. "Lolth damn it," he cursed softly.

* * *

The day after was, for Drizzt, extremely awkward. Catti-brie too seemed a little embarrassed at what she had instigated, but by the end of the day it was obvious she felt quite comfortable, even pleased, with it. She thoroughly surprised the weapons-master when she followed him into his chambers that night after they had finished training.

"Hey," she called softly.

"What are you doing in here?" He didn't turn around.

"Sleeping." She made it sound as though it were obvious. "Why not?"

"Because of...because..." He sighed. "What about l-last night?"

She shrugged. "What about it?"

"Aren't you...embarrassed?"

"Me? No." He watched, dumbfounded, as she undressed and moved over to his nondescript dresser and dug through it for a shirt. Finding one, she tugged it over her head and crawled into bed.

"Catti-brie, wha..." It was hard to form an articulate thought. "I mean..._what_?"

"Aren't you coming to bed, Drizzt?" When he didn't answer, she rolled over to look at him and offered him a sly smile. "On the surface, last night would make us lovers."

"Lovers?"

"Yeah. Ever heard of that? Or is it one o' those things ye told me about that drow don't really have?"

"Ehh...one of those..."

"Ah."

"But...I have had lovers before. Or rather, they've had me." He sat on the edge of the bed, halfway through getting undressed, and looked at her awkwardly. "What about you?"

"Well...when yer patrol attacked the Hall, did ye see that giant man?"

"Yes."

"We were engaged to be married once. He treated me...worse than I would have liked. So I broke it off. Me father kind of adopted him as well, so he's me brother, in a way."

Drizzt wrinkled his nose. "But wasn't that...uncomfortable?"

"It was, at first. But not so much anymore. He's the best brother I could ever ask for." She fell back on the pillow and sighed. "Aren't ye getting into bed? I'm _tired_, love." She rolled back over, leaving Drizzt once again in stunned silence. Had she just called him _love_? That word had no real meaning in Drow. This amazing woman had come into his life and into his bed, changing him and herself making a complete turnaround from surly to happy in only a few short months. She was bringing out all those qualities in him that had once caused him to bring chaos down upon his House, those feelings of compassion and sympathy. And now she thought of him as her lover, after only one night? Shaking his head, he gave up and lay down beside her.

She rolled over once more, tucking her head against his chest. "Goodnight, Drizzt," she whispered.

Training over the next few weeks became increasingly difficult for Drizzt. Catti-brie seemed more focused than ever, but the weapons-master found his mind wandering constantly. Something was wrong with him. He couldn't concentrate, and more often than not even the simplest defenses fell apart under the woman's attacks. He had also begun to teach her to speak Drow, in the hopes that he would no longer need to use the magical earring he always wore. She was as quick in mind as she was in body, and he found that he began to learn her language as well.

But still, the only thoughts constant in his mind involved the woman. He didn't know what to think anymore. In his life, any encounters with female drow had never been pleasant, but with this human, it was quite nice—even enjoyable.

But he still couldn't admit to himself that he was making love to her, or that he even loved her at all. Every night before falling asleep she would tell him that she loved him and she would kiss him, but he had to wonder if she really meant it.

* * *

"Catti-brie?" Drizzt called when he entered the gym. He didn't see her anywhere; her weapons lay discarded on the floor. Sighing helplessly, he moved to pick them up, and then heard her voice carry to him from his chambers. Looking in, he saw that she was wrapped in the thin blanket, her clothes strewn carelessly over the floor. She had a mischievous gleam in her bright eyes, and offered him a sly grin as he stepped inside.

"What in the Nine Hells are you doing?" he asked, amused. This human woman was something strange. "It's the middle of the day."

"What day down _here_?" she retorted. "And it's our anniversary, anyway."

"Beg pardon?"

"Our anniversary."

"Why do you say that?"

"Well, we've been lovers fer a year today." She smiled up at him. "So I thought we could do something...special. Ye know, forget training fer a little while..."

"Anniversary?" he repeated.

"Yeah. It's something we _humans_ do. And the dwarves. Must be more of a surface thing," she mused, sitting up and casually letting the blankets fall away. "We mark things like that. Anniversaries, birthdays. Deaths, sometimes. Call us crazy, but it's what we do. And since we've been sharing this extremely small bed fer a year, I thought it warranted some sort o'...celebration." She grinned wickedly when she saw Drizzt staring at her. "Although if we were back in me own home, we'd have much more room. More pillows, more blankets...more fun."

The dark elf couldn't restrain himself any longer. He gave in, tackling the woman and pinning her to the bed. Her giggles echoed through tiny room.

* * *

Drizzt crept quietly back into the gym, clutching the forbidden packages in his arms. His eyes darted back and forth, looking for any sign of his sisters. Once he was certain they were nowhere near, he breathed a sigh of relief and locked the door behind him. Catti-brie stood staring at him, her swords at her sides.

"What're those?" she asked curiously.

"They're for you," he smiled, holding the packages out to her.

"What?" She sounded incredulous.

"Yes," he laughed. "Here, let me show you!" He sat down on the ground and she followed his lead, watching curiously as he pulled the string from the crackling paper. He grinned when he saw the happy gleam in her eyes as he held up one of the blankets he had gotten her. He held it out to her.

"Drizzt..."

"The other night you said that your bed on the surface had more blankets to make it cozier. I kept thinking about that, so I snuck into the Bazaar today and found these. I don't understand how you can get cold in the Underdark, but..." He shrugged.

"Thank you!" She hugged him tightly and pressed a kiss to his cheek. "Ye're so sweet!"

He laughed as he watched her tie a blanket like a cape around her neck. He had to admit that she was growing on him.

* * *

They lay in their bed, Catti-brie on her back and smiling at Drizzt as his long fingers traced designs on her stomach. He bent his head and brushed his lips tenderly across hers. It was the closest he had ever come to admitting he loved her. She understood what he meant and kissed him back, wrapping her arms around his neck and rolling so that she was on top of him.

"Drizzt?" she asked softly, almost shyly. "Are...are we ever gonna get out of here?"

"What do you mean?"  
"I mean out o' Menzoberranzan. 'Cause I've been living here for a year an' a half, and every day the walls seem to get smaller. The gym is stifling. I...I can't take it anymore." She smiled, the mischievous gleam in her eyes not quite disguising the worry he knew she felt. "The bed seems t'be getting smaller, too."

Drizzt shook his head. "We wouldn't survive in the Underdark, Catti-brie."

"I know, but I...I meant going back to the surface."

He looked at her for a long time, trying to fathom her meaning. "I could try to get you out without my sisters seeing, but I can never leave. My place is here."

"Yeah, I ain't gonna believe that." She rolled her eyes. "Ye told me the very first time we spoke that ye were different from most other drow. And ye proved to me that ye are. Whenever ye take me out to the Bazaar or something I can tell. After I was captured and we were going along the surface to the caves, I woke up. And I saw you. Ye were walking along with yer head held up, looking at the stars. The rest o' yer people had their hoods over their heads. Me whole life, I've heard drow are evil and there is no redemption for them. But ye've proved all that wrong. Ye're different, Drizzt. Believe me, I know."

"Catti-brie...even if we did manage to escape together, where would I go on the surface?"

"With me," she stated simply, rolling onto her side and looking at him.

"And live with the dwarf king whose friends and kin were slaughtered by my people? Whose daughter they kidnapped?"

Catti-brie sighed. "Ye're right. But I love ye, Drizzt. I don't want to lose you."

The drow paused. This human woman—this wonderful human woman—was actually saying that she didn't want to leave him. That was impossible. It made no sense. But still...

There would be no life for them on the surface. There would be for her, if only she would leave him. He would never be completely trusted, and there was a great chance she would be killed just for being with him. He would die as well. There was no way he could do what she was asking of him, to go to her father's home and live in a place where he had aided in murder.

"We can think of something," he promised, gently kissing the woman's forehead. He wrapped her in his arms and held her close.


	5. Resolution

The next morning Drizzt was summoned to the throne room. A heavy weight settled in his stomach, as it always did when Briza called for him. He left Catti-brie sleeping in their room.

"Matron," he said deferentially as he bowed.

"Brother, it has come to my attention that you and your battle-captive have grown unnaturally close."

"Excuse me, Matron?"

"Lolth has told me that the two of you are..._close_," she reiterated. Drizzt shivered at the emphasis on that last word.

"W-we have, Matron," he said at last. "We have had no choice. I have given her minimal training. Nothing more. Matron, what is a weapons-master—a male—to do with a battle-captive?"

"Do you think me an idiot, brother?"

Drizzt shook his head, trying to keep from panicking. "No, Matron." He didn't dare raise his eyes, fearing to see the look on Briza's face. Nor did he want her to see the fear written on his own features.

"Do you...love her?"

Drizzt didn't answer.

"Bring the human to me. Lolth has demanded her sacrifice."

* * *

Drizzt's heart was pounding as he walked back to the gym. When he entered he saw that Catti-brie was awake and warming up. She smiled at him, but it faded a moment later when she saw the expression on his face.

"What's wrong?" she asked slowly, her swords dipping toward the ground as she moved closer to him, worried.

"My sister... Briza has demanded your execution."

"What?" The blood quickly drained from her face.

"The Spider Queen...she knows. Briza doesn't want House Do'Urden to lose Lolth's favor. Not again. I am to bring you to the chapel to be..." He shook his head. "Catti-brie, we've got to get out of here."

"How?"

"I don't know...we can..." He sighed, frustrated. "I don't know! Just...get your weapons and...we have to get out of here!" He double-checked to make sure his own scimitars were belted around his waist. "No doubt Briza is scrying us... She'll know where we've gone and hunt us into the Underdark to make sure her precious House retains Lolth's favor." He signed scornfully. "The only place for us is the surface, Catti-brie." He managed a small smile at the joy that suddenly crossed her face. "But that's only if we get there alive."

He ran into his room to grab his pack, stuffing a few needed items into it. He warned Catti-brie to be quiet, then pulled her close as he summoned several globes of darkness. Hiding behind them, they crouched down. There was only one way out of the gym, and he feared it was being watched. He summoned another globe and kept doing so as they crept along the wall towards the door.

"Maybe we can get into the Bazaar..." he murmured to himself, almost unaware that Catti-brie was listening. He reached up and grabbed the handle. The door creaked open effortlessly.

"Maybe there's someone who'll help us," she added, a tinge of hopefulness in her voice. Drizzt shook his head. In Menzoberranzan, help was hard to come by, and when found it came at a high price.

At every corner he placed another globe, knowing that they wouldn't dissipate for another hour or so; that might be enough to escape, or at least get out of the castle. It would be a trail for Briza's soldiers to follow, but he felt safer under their protection.

They hadn't yet encountered any drow, but he had a feeling the Matron would send her minions out soon—and more than likely she would send her most skilled priestesses. Drizzt pulled Catti-brie after him, running down the corridors towards the nearest exit out of House Do'Urden.

Drizzt stopped suddenly. _Out of House Do'Urden. _

"What?" Catti-brie asked, worried. She peered at him as though she suspected some evil enchantment or spell.

"We can't just take the easiest way out."

"Well, why not?"

"A drow will expect her prey to take the least obvious path. Drow thrive on confusing their enemies. In our case, Briza will expect us to take the easiest way, because she has anticipated that we will try to confuse her by letting her think we've taken the harder way. Therefore, she _expects_ us to take the easy way."

Catti-brie stared at him. "What...the hell? What does that mean?"

Drizzt sighed. "It means we have to go deeper inside the castle to get out."

The woman blinked. "Inside," she echoed, not really a question.

"Yes." He sighed again. "Come on. I know a way but it won't be easy." He led her down the hall and turned for the throne room. As they passed the door, Drizzt began to set more globes around. Gesturing to Catti-brie to stay hidden, he ran down an adjacent hall that he knew led outside and placed a globe or two.

He returned to the woman and drew one of his scimitars, pushing her ahead of him as she drew her own swords. He glanced over his shoulder often as they made their way through House Do'Urden, covering their retreat. He knew that nothing he did could make them much safer. He stayed close to Catti-brie, guiding her steps with quiet directions. When no pursuit could be heard, Drizzt began to relax a little bit.

Catti-brie shrieked suddenly, and he whirled around, drawing his other weapon. A small group of drow stood before them, swords out. One of them, an oddly tall and muscular male and clearly the leader, advanced towards them. Drizzt met him, scimitars whirling. Catti-brie was close behind, and though Drizzt had been training her for the last year and half, she was no match for the soldiers they now fought against. She had engaged one and slaughtered him by the time Drizzt was done with the other four. She rolled her eyes as he grinned, flipping his weapons over his hands before replacing them in their sheaths.

"Showoff," she muttered, smiling.

* * *

Miraculously, they made it out of House Do'Urden with no further setbacks. The two crept out into the empty courtyard, looking for any who might be searching for them. When they reached the magical spider web fence surrounding the castle, Drizzt pulled off his _piwafwi_ and draped it over the woman's shoulders. When she turned to him, a question on her lips, he fastened the cloak gently and kissed her on the cheek to reassure her, then crouched down and laced his fingers together to create a platform onto which she could step. He hoisted her over the fence, hoping that by disguising her in the magical cloak, the barrier would recognize her as a drow and she wouldn't be trapped by the web.

He watched her as she scrambled over, landing on the other side in an undignified heap. She turned to watch him worriedly as he too clambered over, falling lightly to his feet beside her. As she stood, he reached for her face. She tried to pull away but he refused to let her, concentrating briefly.

"It's just a small spell," he told her. "I think it will keep anyone from looking too closely at us. As long as I keep my hood up and you walk in front, most will think us a normal priestess and willing follower."

"What, exactly, do I look like?" Catti-brie asked with trepidation, already knowing the answer.

"A priestess." Drizzt shook his head, managing a smile. "I don't like it any more than you do. You just don't look like…_you_." She looked like a drow, her pale skin now of the blackest ebony and her auburn hair now bone-white. But her eyes will still that shocking sapphire blue. "It will wear off after a few hours, but I can just keep casting it. It'll have to do for now."

He took his place behind her and quietly directed her to the road that led to the Bazaar. They went at a casual pace, not wanting to draw any attention as they strolled past the other noble Houses. Those who saw them thought they were seeing the weapons-master of House Do'Urden as he obediently followed a cloaked female, perhaps a priestess, back to her own home for a night of pleasure.

Much to his relief, the plan worked. He whispered a quiet instruction to Catti-brie, and they ducked into an alley just outside the entrance of the Bazaar. Heart pounding, he clutched her hand, glad for the brief respite before they continued on.

He pushed her forward again, aware that she was shaking. He followed her closely enough to whisper directions into her ear, telling her where they needed to go. They were in the heart of the Bazaar now, winding their way through the kiosks and stalls, browsing a few to make it seem more like they were there to shop. But when they passed a small stable, Drizzt got an idea. He pulled Catti-brie back toward him for a moment, furtively glancing around to make sure no one had seen. He hastily whispered his plan to her and then stood a few reverent steps back as she edged further away from him. She kept her head bent slightly to hide her eyes.

"Excuse me," she said to one of the males running the stable. Drizzt felt a surge of pride at her fluent Drow, spoken with absolutely no hint of her heavy dwarven accent. "Are you planning any excursions to…" She paused suddenly, and Drizzt felt his heart speed up.

He doubled over suddenly, coughing violently. It was only a split second after Catti-brie had trailed off—enough time, he hoped, to cover her potentially fatal error. "Ched Nasad!" he inserted into the feigned fit, glancing up at the woman.

"Excuse my slave," she began again, and he could almost see her rolling her eyes. "He's sickly, you understand. But I was wondering if your…superiors, I would assume, were planning any expeditions to Ched Nasad soon?"

Drizzt slowly straightened up, listening and watching closely. So far, so good. Catti-brie was doing surprisingly well, he thought, and if they could only keep it up for a little while longer…

"Erm…" the male replied, eyes wide. He almost looked a little suspicious, but then he continued. "Matron Sos'Umptu Baenre recently came to us with orders to take a caravan of our fastest lizards to Ched Nasad to make a delivery to the storehouses of House Zauvirr." He looked at Catti-brie with fear in his eyes. Drizzt fought back a grin. It was working, it was working… "Perhaps for a small fee, you could come along, Mistress." They might suspect they were fleeing the city, but as long as they stood to gain something, they would likely ignore that and let them come.

"Very well. Name your price."

Drizzt cursed under his breath. He had been in such a panic in the gym that he hadn't thought to bring any money. He usually kept a small purse tucked into his boot, but he had forgotten that as well.

"Five gold?" the male ventured nervously, obviously not wanting to incur the wrath of a priestess.

"I will give you three," Catti-brie replied immediately, coldness seeping into her voice.

The male nodded.

"Dinin?" Drizzt looked up obediently as Catti-brie turned to him, her black hand held out for the coins. "Boot," she mouthed. He nodded, but tried to convey to her that he didn't have it. She sighed and gestured, and at a loss he bent and unlaced his boot. And there was the purse, filled with a few coins. Amazed and slightly confused, he looked up at the woman.

"Mistress—" She merely smiled knowingly. "Mistress," he conceded, pulling out the needed money and handing it to Catti-brie.

"Your payment," she said to the male, but before he could take the coins, she snatched it back. "When does the caravan leave?"

"You're in luck, Mistress. It leaves within the hour."

"Then here is your payment." The male took the coins hungrily in his palms, checking to make sure they were real before placing them almost reverently in a wooden box.

"You may wait here, if you like, Mistress," he said.

"Very well. Dinin, come," Catti-brie said arrogantly, snapping her fingers. She sat against the wall of the stable and Drizzt followed, crouching beside her in a fashion befitting a lowly male. He was absolutely captivated by the woman's performance, amazed at how well she had picked up on the nuances of drow society. She had put just enough superiority into her voice to convince the males that they were ranked far below her. What surprised him even further was that she had been in Menzoberranzan for a year and half, and most of that time had been spent in the gym with only rare outings into the city proper. Somehow, she had learned all that. Not to mention that she had also listened closely to the tales he had at last reluctantly told her, recounting his childhood and unfortunate life—she had given him his dead brother's name.

They sat in silence for the better part of an hour, not daring to speak for fear of being overheard by the males. They couldn't risk being found out now, not when everything was going their way. They watched as the wagons were loaded and a number of House Baenre guards came to escort the caravan to Ched Nasad. When everything had been secured, Catti-brie was ushered into a cart near the front, and Drizzt scrambled in behind her. They started to move. Since the wagon was covered, he could finally look the woman in the face. She met his eyes, grinning madly. "It worked, love," she whispered in amazement.

He kissed her gently, smiling as well. "You were nothing short of astounding," he murmured. "How…how did you know all that? And the _money_?"

"I _listen_," she retorted. "And ye were so worked up back in the gym that ye didn't even notice when I slipped the purse back into yer boot." She sighed, unable to stop smiling.

"Here." Drizzt pulled her into his arms. "We're almost out of the city now. You should sleep for a while. I'll stay awake. Just to be safe."

* * *

Drizzt managed to stay awake, though the lizards pulling the wagons soon settled into a steady rhythm that rocked him pleasantly, and Catti-brie, now fast asleep in his arms, didn't help any. Fighting back a yawn, he leaned forward just far enough to look out the back of the wagon at the lizards behind them.

Suddenly a commotion from the back of the caravan caught his ears, and he shook the woman awake. At his worried gesture, she peered blearily out the back as well. Though they heard voices, they couldn't understand what was being said. Drizzt reached down to loosen his scimitars; Catti-brie did the same with her swords. The woman brought herself up in a defensive crouch, her hands gripping the hilts of her weapons. Drizzt glanced down nervously, fearing that the spell was beginning to wear off, and he didn't have time to cast it again.

After several breathless minutes, they realized that whatever was going on in the back of the caravan was slowly winding its way up to the front. Drizzt cursed when he realized what was happening. His sharp ears caught the whispered words as a group of drow made their way up the wagons. He shoved Catti-brie back behind the bags and chests, burrowing in behind her.

"What is it?"

"A search party from House Do'Urden."

She cursed.

"I think it's Briza's daughter and a group of her warriors. We're doomed." The wagon behind them stopped. Drizzt's heart sped up.

Briza's daughter's voice trailed up to them from the other cart. "House Do'Urden, Fifth House of Menzoberranzan, demands a halt. Matron Briza is searching for two runaways—her brother the weapons-master Drizzt Do'Urden and his battle-captive, a human woman."

Drizzt began to edge toward the side of the wagon, dragging Catti-brie with him. "I think we can get into another wagon while they're busy searching. We'll have to share the cloak to stay hidden, but it might work…"

Catti-brie unfastened the _piwafwi _and quickly tucked Drizzt under it with her. It was a tight fit, but it would have to do.

"Why I never got you your own cloak," Drizzt grumbled, "I'll never know. I got you _blankets_, but not a cloak…" With nimble fingers the drow unlaced the strips of leather that tied the hide canvas to the wagon. It came undone, and he tugged it down so that the Baenre guards wouldn't see anything. He leaned back and took one last look around. Their wagon was next in line, and they would be caught if they didn't hurry. Left with no other choices, he lifted Catti-brie and hoisted her over the side. The _piwafwi_ slipped off his head, but he knew he had to risk it. The woman landed on the stony floor, fear evident in her widened eyes. Drizzt tried frantically to make it over, and had almost accomplished it when the wagon came to an abrupt stop. He heard his niece's voice coming closer. He nearly fell back with the jolt, until Catti-brie grabbed his hand and helped him out under the canvas.

He tumbled to the ground, and after a moment to regain his balance, he grabbed the cloak to cover himself and they headed for the back of the caravan. When they reached a wagon near the end, they climbed in. Settling behind the cargo, they made no noise that would attract any unwanted attention. With any luck, Drizzt figured, the head of the caravan would assume that they had been seen and, since Catti-brie was supposedly a powerful priestess, she had exchanged a few pleasantries with a fellow priestess, and the Matron's daughter would be on her way.

That, luckily, seemed to be the case. A half-hour later the search party passed the caravan and left them to go along the tunnel. Catti-brie slumped back in relief, wrapping Drizzt in a tight embrace. "Yer turn to sleep," she whispered wearily.

* * *

At last, four tendays later, they arrived in Ched Nasad. As soon as they had a chance, Drizzt and Catti-brie escaped. They hid in a side alley as the caravan passed, sharing the tight space with two goblins who looked at them with narrowed eyes, telling them plainly they had trespassed. Ignoring them, Drizzt dug into his pack, looking for the last of the food. Everything was gone.

"We've still got some money, right?" Catti-brie asked. Drizzt was getting used to seeing her as a drow; he had been casting the spell regularly to ensure their safety. "All ye used were those three pieces t'buy passage."

"There isn't much, but depending on how much it costs to make it to the World Above, we might not be able to buy food."

"What d'ye mean, how we get to the World Above?"

"There are portals in Ched Nasad. Most of them lead to other drow cities, but there are some that don't. I know that one leads to an acid pit in the midst of the Underdark. There is also one that I am certain leads to the surface. It's rumored that one other will get us where we want to go, but no one has ever found it."

"How's money gonna come into this?"

"The portal I know of is guarded."

"So where's that one?"

"It's on the fourth layer of the city."

"Then lead on, Do'Urden."

The city of Ched Nasad was built in a cavern that stretched higher than the eye could see. Huge floors of calcified spider webbing made up the layers, each strand attaching either to the wall or another web. The higher one went into the city, the better it got. The noblest Houses were located on the very top. Drizzt and Catti-brie slowly made their way through the crowded Undercity, enduring bumps and jostles from the orcs, goblins, and other less-than-savory creatures that inhabited this layer. As they moved higher up, they began to see more drow.

When they reached the portal, four male guards appeared out of thin air, dispelling an apparent invisibility enchantment. They flanked a blank expanse of wall, their expressions stern and unyielding. Catti-brie stepped forward, the weapons-master a few steps behind. Again he marveled at the woman as she stood straighter to make herself seem taller, putting a bit of a swagger in her step.

"What is the toll?" she asked them, her voice haughty. Drizzt hated that she had the ability to even make herself sound like a drow, so cold and arrogant. She was too good at it, and the thought made him cringe.

"Ten gold, Mistress," one of the guards replied. Drizzt looked up in shock.

"Dinin?" Catti-brie turned to him, eyes full of dismay.

Drizzt bent and unlaced his boot, digging through the purse. They had nowhere near enough. "I'm sorry, Mistress," he said.

"Very well." Catti-brie turned back to the guards. "Is there any chance we might get by for what we have?"

"My apologies, Mistress, but Matron Mother Nasarda has set the toll and refuses anything less."

Drizzt was at a loss, but luckily Catti-brie had a plan.

"Do you know what I can do to you, _male_?" she hissed, advancing toward the head guard. The chill in her voice sent a shiver up the weapons-master's spine. "I am a high priestess of the Second House of Menzoberranzan. I am also the First Daughter of the Matron Mother. I could kill my mother with barely a glance, if I so wished. I can also kill you, if you don't let me and my servant pass."

Drizzt very nearly found himself backing away, almost as he would from Briza. Catti-brie was far too good at this, making herself seem more powerful and stronger than the guards. Her weapons were visible beneath the _piwafwi_ she still wore, but he knew the guards would assume she also possessed great clerical powers and wouldn't dare oppose her.

The guards looked as shaken as he felt, and one of them moved for Drizzt, holding out a hand. The weapons-master dumped the contents of the purse into his waiting palm, not looking up.

"Come, Dinin." Catti-brie's voice was cold as she turned to look at him. He half-expected her blue eyes to have a red tinge to them, and he was certain he would see that coldness so commonly associated with the drow there instead of the usual, welcoming warmth. He didn't let his expression change when he saw her, but breathed a mental sigh of relief though he knew his fears had been unfounded.

He stood and followed her willingly as one of the males, obviously a wizard, activated the portal. Catti-brie clutched his hand and pulled him through behind her without hesitation. For a moment they were caught in nothingness, and Drizzt felt as though he had never existed. An instant later they landed on the ground.

It was soft, and grass tickled his skin. Drizzt was filled with elation, realizing that his face was pressed to the dirt, inhaling it with every breath he took. He sat up, looking for Catti-brie. She was beside him, the hood of the _piwafwi_ thrown back as she looked up at the stars, grinning broadly. The spell that disguised her suddenly dissipated, and the silver moonlight fell over her face, giving her an almost elflike quality. Drizzt stared at her, lost in the way she looked up at the clear, open sky with a childlike delight in her eyes, a grin slowly spreading its way across her lips.

He truly did love her. It hit him suddenly. Though he had never been able to search his own soul deeply enough to realize this, he knew it now. He wrapped his arms around her in a tight hug, kissing her profoundly. After a long moment he pulled away and rested his head on her shoulder. "I love you," he whispered into her neck, still keeping her close.

She smiled at him, and he was relieved to see that she felt the same. "I love ye, too," she replied, kissing his cheek gently.

* * *

"How far are we from your home?" Drizzt asked a couple hours later as they lay beneath the branches of a tree. He grimaced as a root dug into his bare back.

"I don't think we're too far, actually," she giggled, smiling at him. She rolled onto her stomach. "I've been in this forest before. The Moonwood. Elves live here."

They fell silent for a while, until Drizzt, still aggravated by the root in his back, muttered, "Thought it was impossible to get more uncomfortable than that damned bed in Menzoberranzan, but this stupid surface world is proving me wrong."

The woman laughed again. "Aw, but ye had fun, didn't ye?" she whispered, nuzzling his neck.

"Yes, I will admit to that. But I'm still waiting on this big comfy bed you claim to have."

"Don't worry, love. We'll get to that in a few days." She rolled her eyes and wrapped her arms around him. He tucked his cloak around them, pulling Catti-brie even closer. She was soon fast asleep, and Drizzt sighed, looking down at her. He really loved her. He was glad of that. It meant that he was capable of feeling, that someday he might be free of the shackles his past had put around him. Even more hopeful was that he had this amazing woman who loved him in return.

He knew that his life on the surface would be hard, trying to gain the trust of everyone he encountered. He certainly was different, he mused, looking up at the stars as they peeped through the leaves overhead. From the moment he had first set foot on the World Above in his youth, he had known he was something unique. That might help him or harm him now, but he knew that with Catti-brie, he would never be alone.

With that thought, he looked at the woman, smiling, and kissed her cheek as she slept.


	6. Lolth's Forgiveness

"Are you feeling all right?" Drizzt asked, coming up behind Catti-brie and resting his chin on her shoulder. He tried to wrap his arms around her.

"Well, me back's hurtin', and there is _this_, after all," she grinned in reply, placing her hands on her bulging belly.

Drizzt kissed her cheek and put his hands over hers. "One more month," he smiled.

His life on the surface had been more than he dreamed it could be. Of course, gaining the trust of the dwarves had been difficult—most still didn't want him around, and King Bruenor hadn't even wanted him in Mithral Hall at first. He had truly feared for his life when he had discovered that he and Catti-brie were lovers. At this point, though, Bruenor had seen him dote over the woman, especially now, and he hoped it would help.

Catti-brie turned around and kissed him. "One more month," she repeated.

When they had found out she was pregnant, he had had no clue how to react. But as the months progressed, he had become accustomed to the thought of being a father. After all, he loved Catti-brie with all his heart and had hoped for a future with her.

"You should sit down," he said.

She sighed. Drizzt couldn't help but grin; he knew she was getting annoyed with his constant fussing. "I was sitting five minutes ago. Now I want to stand."

"All right…" He kissed her cheek again. "Your father wants to talk to me. Wish me luck."

"Ye'll need it."

"Thanks."

* * *

Vierna Do'Urden tapped her long nails against her lips as she contemplated the image in the scrying pool before her. Her younger brother was walking down a stone corridor with a very pregnant human woman—the very woman who had been given to him as a battle-captive. It was easy to see that he was in love with her. The sight sickened her; no drow should feel such emotion. He had always been soft-hearted, though.

The Matron Mother had been watching him in secret for the last two years, trying to decide what to do with him. No one knew of her scrying, because if they did, they would see her indecision as a weakness and take that opportunity to kill her. She couldn't let them see that. She couldn't lose the position she had killed Briza and her daughter to obtain.

She needed to take care of him, eliminate him completely. He would trouble House Do'Urden no more. She knew that it had to be done, but she didn't have Lolth's favor—therein lay the problem. She had the ability to muster one of the strongest armies in the city, and she wielded power that most high priestesses could only dream of…but she needed the Spider Queen's favor more than anything.

She didn't have a good feeling about the impending birth, either. She grew uneasy when she looked at her brother's lover; there was something very wrong there…

She stood and left her private quarters, intending to go to the temple to attempt to commune with Lolth. The place was empty, much to her relief, and she knelt before the altar that held a statuette of the goddess. Vierna muttered a prayer over the imposing figure and began to plead silently with Lolth for forgiveness. She received no message from her deity. She sat up in frustration, thin brows furrowed as she gazed at the altar. What had she done wrong? Did Lolth think she had let Drizzt escape? No, that was impossible, Briza had been Matron Mother at the time, but—

Briza.

Vierna couldn't believe it hadn't occurred to her before. She uttered a quiet curse and let her head fall into her hands. She had never consulted Lolth before murdering her sister and niece because normally the goddess approved of such things—murder to elevate one's position. But going against her wishes warranted great punishment. Especially if she hadn't wanted Briza to die.

The Matron sighed heavily. To actually lose contact with the Spider Queen? It was a feat unheard of. She sat on the floor of the temple for a long time, her mind reeling, trying to come up with something, anything. Begging, groveling…Lolth would have to appreciate that. Sacrifices, if it came to that, and it likely would. But how could she know if Lolth would even listen to her supplications? Still, anything was worth a try; she had been out of the Queen's favor for the better part of two years. She was surprised her House hadn't been destroyed—it was well-known that the Do'Urdens were struggling. She didn't dare think for a moment that Lolth was keeping her alive out of mercy.

She crept closer to the altar and bowed so low that her forehead touched the flat surface of the obsidian dais. Her ensuing pleas were desperate. She begged for forgiveness, a chance to make amends for the wrongs she had committed.

She didn't hear as one of the two heavy adamantine doors was pushed open, creaking on its steel hinges, nor was she aware of the light footsteps coming her way. So lost was she in her prayers that she didn't register the cold feeling of the knife slipping between her ribs until it was too late.

"Maya!" she gasped, blood trickling from her mouth as a strong hand grabbed her by the hair and wrenched her head back.

"My sincerest apologies, sister, but it had to be done."

Vierna couldn't struggle as her body was dragged to the darkest recess of the octagonal room.

"Lolth demanded it," were the last words she heard.

* * *

"Drow!" Bruenor spat as soon as Drizzt entered the throne room. "Sit!"

The elf did as he was told, his palms slightly damp as he looked up at the dwarf king, sitting on his throne—no doubt to seem more imposing.

"Ye know why ye're here?"

The drow looked up into the dwarf's gray eyes. "Vaguely," he replied. He had learned to keep his answers to one or two words when speaking to the king; anything more, and the "talk" would end badly for him.

"What're ye doin' with my girl?"

"Pardon?" Drizzt had heard this answered this question before, but Bruenor never believed the true answer.

"Why're ye with her? Ye got her pregnant—although it weren't a smart decision on her part, neither—and ye stay. Ye've never done nothing evil, but…ye're a drow. I think ye're either mad, or very good at yer game. I dunno which, but ye've been in me home against me wishes fer almost two years now an' ye've done nothing to hurt me girl or me kin."

Drizzt looked up at the surprisingly kind words, shocked, and half-expected the dwarf to launch into another one of his tirades about drow and their character in general. It didn't come, though, and he scrambled to his feet when Bruenor roared, "_Get out!_"

* * *

"What'd he say?" Catti-brie asked when she saw Drizzt.

The elf kissed her cheek absentmindedly. "Nothing much," he replied. "The usual."

"Did he threaten ye again?" she asked sternly.

"How did you know he threatened me before?" Drizzt asked, eyes dancing.

"Don't change the subject! Tell me what he said!"

"He's…happy for us. In his own strange way." He grinned at her. "You're more stubborn than normal. What's gotten into you?"

"I'm pregnant," she said darkly. "_You_ of all people should know very well what's gotten into me. And he ain't happy, you realize."

"He's trying. Give him that, at least." He put an arm around her and pulled her close, smiling as she rested her head contentedly on his shoulder.

"Wanna go for a walk?" she asked.

"That sounds lovely."

The sun was beginning to set when they came out on top of Mithral Hall. Drizzt sat with his back to a cliff as Catti-brie lay down with her head in his lap.

"What should we name it?" she asked, one hand absentmindedly stroking her belly. "Ye'd think we'd have something by now."

"Do you have any ideas?"

"Mm…no. Most human names don't sound right, dwarf names are out o' the question, and I can't think of any proper elf names."

"Would you be opposed to drow names?" Drizzt asked quietly.

"Nah…make it a good one, though."

He laughed. "All right. I've been thinking of a few… What about Myra'fae if it's a girl, and Divroos if it's a boy?"

She wrinkled her nose. "I like Myra'fae. But give me another boy's name."

"All right. How about…Filinyon?"

"Nope. 'Nother one, please."

"Very well. How do you feel about Dhautrin?"

She thought for a moment, tilting her head to the side. Drizzt grinned as a smile spread over her face. "That one's perfect." She sat up, biting her lip almost shyly. "We're gonna have a baby, Drizzt."

* * *

Dinner that night was different. Bruenor was friendlier to Drizzt, and, seeming to take a cue from their king, so were the other dwarves. Catti-brie was as surprised as the elf, but pleasantly so, smiling when she saw her father engage the drow in an actual conversation.

Still, she approached him after the meal as he was entering his private quarters for the night. He beamed at her as she followed him in.

"Sit," she demanded. Surprised and a little confused, he did.

"So ye're for trustin' him now? Just all of a sudden? It takes ye two years afore ye can trust me decisions?"

"Girl, I—"

"I know ye have a hard time havin' him near, but I love him. He's the father of me child, for gods' sakes! I know he's a drow, an' even I didn't trust him or _like_ him at first, but—"

"Girl, girl, calm down!" Bruenor laughed, lifting a hand to stop her outburst. "Yeah, I guess I'm for trustin' him now. I've seen how he is around ye—he loves ye and he ain't gonna leave ye."

"That's right," the woman said, nodding firmly. "An' ye know yer grandkid's gonna be half-drow, right?"

"Yeah," the dwarf muttered. "Ah, maybe it'll be cute. Little pointy ears…"

Catti-brie smiled and kissed the top of her father's head. "Goodnight, Da."

* * *

Maya watched carefully through the scrying pool as her brother wrapped his arms around the human woman. She glanced back at the wizard, of whom his services she had temporarily taken advantage, then looked at her two guards and nodded. Her plan was ready to execute. She would get Drizzt Do'Urden back.

* * *

Drizzt woke slowly and sat up, reaching for the extra blanket at the end of the bed while his other arm searched for Catti-brie. Finding neither, he opened his eyes in confusion.

What he saw confused him. He was lying on the dark, stony floor in a small cell whose walls were covered in bas-reliefs of spiders and incarnations of Lolth. There was a thin but strong chain wrapped around his ankles that prevented him from moving too far, and it was attached to the wall. With an unpleasant lurch in his stomach, he realized where he was. He let his eyes slip into the infrared spectrum, searching for Catti-brie. He found her sitting with her back to the wall. She was awake but her eyes weren't focusing on anything.

"Catti? Are you all right?" He got as close to her as he could, seeing that she too was afraid. He reached out his hand to take hers.

"I've been here afore," she murmured, looking down at her knees. "After we were captured…"

Drizzt noticed that she wasn't chained like he was. "Come here," he whispered, holding out his arms. She gratefully crawled over to him and curled up in his embrace, trembling. The drow put a hand on her belly, smiling and kissing her temple when he felt the baby kick.

"We'll get out of here," he murmured gently, stroking her hair. In truth, though, he couldn't see any way out. The dungeons of House Do'Urden were among the most impenetrable places in Menzoberranzan, inside and out.

His head snapped up when he heard the heavy metal door creak open. A small, dark figure, followed by two others, stepped into the meager light.

"Maya," Drizzt nodded, choking back his surprise as he acknowledged his older sister.

"_Matron_ Maya, brother."

"Why are we here?" Drizzt asked, looking up at her.

"A simple teleportation spell," she replied absentmindedly as she unlocked the cell and entered, her two guards dutifully trailing after her. "You should have known that, brother. You were always a smart boy."

"I asked _why_, not _how_, Maya," Drizzt warned, danger in his voice. Catti-brie shifted, sitting up fearfully.

Maya gave him a sickly-sweet smile and produced a key from a pocket in her cloak. She bent and unlocked the chain from his ankles, then had her guards pin him against the far wall. Catti-brie tried to reach him, but the Matron Mother used an enchantment to prevent her from doing so. She didn't look happy, and from the glint in her eyes, Drizzt knew that something bad was about to happen.

He offered his lover a small, encouraging smile. "What do you have to gain by our being here?" he asked, turning to his sister. "What does Catti-brie have to do with any of this?" If he could just keep her from getting hurt, it would all be worthwhile. He was willing to die for her.

"Will you return as our weapons-master?"

It went so much deeper than that, and he already knew why he was here, and why Catti-brie was with him. His mind worked frantically, searching for a way out of this. "What do you truly want?"

"Lolth's favor, brother," came the blunt reply.

"Damn you," Drizzt hissed. He had seen far too much that had been called the work of Lolth. He wasn't going to let the woman he loved become another casualty. She was here as leverage—her life would be threatened in order to get him to return. But he wasn't going to play into that trap. It was an easy choice. It meant abandoning his lover and child, but as long as they were alive, he could keep going.

He looked at Catti-brie, tears in his eyes. Her own eyes were wide as she shook her head, pleading silently with him. He tried to convey to her how sorry he was, how much he hated to make that choice, but that it was necessary for her to live and be happy.

"Your answer?" Maya asked impatiently. When he didn't reply right away, she brought her knife to Catti-brie's throat.

"Whatever you want!" he pleaded, fighting against the guards that held him; the sight of the cold steel at the woman's neck was too much for him to handle. "Just don't hurt her."

"Lolth demands it," Maya responded, raising an eyebrow as though questioning his decision.

"I will return," Drizzt said, defeated. Catti-brie let out a little sob. "Whatever you want." He ceased to wrestle against the guards as he gazed at his sister in fear. Then he looked to Catti-brie. She was devastated, tears in her eyes, not wanting to believe the words he had spoken.

She still wore that expression when Maya slit her throat.

"_NO!_" Drizzt thrashed violently, trying to free himself, trying to get to Catti-brie as she fell. Tears streamed down his face, inhuman sounds escaped him, but he couldn't escape.

"Get him out of here," Maya said, disgusted.

* * *

As soon as he was gone, barely ten seconds later, she knelt beside the woman's body and rolled her over. She was already dead. Taking her knife, the Matron Mother carefully opened the human's stomach, knowing that she didn't have much time. The baby was still alive, though already weakening. She pulled it free and cut the cord, looking it over with scrutinizing eyes.

A male, she sniffed. Not a third-born son, of course, but maybe the bastard child of her blasphemous brother and the weak human he had taken as his lover might still prove a worthy sacrifice to the Spider Queen. She cast a few minor cantrips over the boy to help him breathe and to keep him warm, and wrapped him in her _piwafwi_ for additional protection as she headed for the temple.


	7. Epilogue

Drizzt Do'Urden paced the length of the gym, hands clasped behind his back. It was a habit he had developed long ago, something he did before he met new students. He was ready for one; he needed the distraction.

Sighing heavily, he paused and looked to the door that led to his private chambers. It had taken a few nights, but he had finally managed to sleep in the bed he had once shared with Catti-brie. The blankets he had bought her were still there—where they had sat for nearly ten years before he had been able to unfold them and wrap them around his shoulders. They no longer retained her scent, but he could almost imagine her beside him.

He lowered himself to the floor, sitting in the middle of the gym. At the very least, she hadn't suffered. She had died immediately.

He hadn't taken a lover in the sixteen years since her death, and he doubted he ever would. He still grieved for her. A cold, empty hole filled his chest now. He felt emotionless, devoid of any real life. But he knew that Menzoberranzan demanded things of him that he knew would be easier to succumb to than fight.

The only reason he hadn't killed himself was that Maya had promised him a very painful afterlife, and he knew that she didn't make idle threats. He hadn't killed her, either, because he suspected she had placed a contingency spell on herself; he didn't fear death, but there was still his afterlife to think about. He hadn't returned to Mithral Hall, either. He had actually had a handful of chances to do so, but he knew that no one would want him there, as no one had wanted him there when he had been with Catti-brie. And now that Catti-brie was dead, he would likely be blamed for it—not that he could deny it. He couldn't face the dwarves, especially Bruenor, though he knew he owed it to them.

And not only had he lost his beloved Catti-brie, he had lost his child.

He stood when the knock came. That would be Maya with his new student. He had heard that the boy was of House Do'Urden, a drowling of no small talent. His father had been some commoner, his mother a minor priestess of the household who had died in childbirth, leaving him an orphan. Maya, seeing his potential, had been his weanmother—something unheard of for a Matron Mother.

He opened the door, bowing before his sister, ushering her and the boy in. He glanced up as they passed him, looking his student up and down. The boy was small, but still larger and stronger than Vrellin had been. Drizzt watched the boy as he turned, tilting his head back curiously to look up at the vaulted ceiling, his shaggy white hair falling over his shoulders. After a moment he lowered his head to regard the weapons-master, and Drizzt felt cold shock wash over him.

The boy gazed at him with odd, piercing blue eyes, eyes that were the color of sapphires—eyes that he had known only one other person to possess. He was frozen to the spot, unable to look away.

"Drizzt." Maya's voice broke through his whirling thoughts. "This is Amaltran Do'Urden. Train him well."

**The End.**


End file.
